Santa Baby
by BigDestiny
Summary: Greg's Case: Find out who his secret Santa is. The problem? Not only is he not sure if he wants a secret admirer, Greg's mystery man may end up interfering with a real life romance. NickGreg?


CSI, and it's (somewhat inferior) spin-offs, are owned by CBS, not me. That goes double for the characters and the actors who play them. I get nothing from this story, except hopefully some ego stroking. This is my first CSI fic, so please be gentle.

Warning: Slash, which means people in here are gay, that aren't all that gay on the show. But my beta is rabidly insistent that Nick Stokes is straight, and she managed to buy the premise. So it must be a little sellable.

Pairing: Nick/Greg?

Rating: M, which I think is the same as the show. If it's different, please let me know, and I'll change it.

Santa Baby - by BigDestiny

"Grissom!"

Gil Grissom turned from his walk to his office, unsurprised to see that Greg was calling out to him. Several members of the Crime Lab night shift had accused Grissom of having a near supernatural ability to predict when someone needed to see him. It wasn't true, of course, but there did seem to be times when he seemed to have a sixth sense about it.

Or maybe it was just the fact that someone was ALWAYS looking for him. "What can I do for you?

Greg was looking uncomfortable, which was an unusual mood for him to be in. He was also wearing his gloves, which was likewise odd as it had been a slow week, and there weren't any open cases at the moment. "Look, can I talk for you a bit. In private?" he finished, with a plaintive look at Grissom's office.

"I'm on my way to talk to the under-sheriff about the strip-walker case," Grissom replied as he led Greg into his office. The truth was, the under-sheriff had been panicked by the recent spate of tourist killings they'd named the strip-walker case. And even though the woman responsible had been caught, the under-sheriff was still wanting to parade Grissom around proving the arrest before the case even came to trial. "Please. Take as much time as you need."

That seemed to calm Greg down a little. But he still seemed perturbed. "This is a test, isn't it?" And he dropped a manila envelope onto Grissom's desk.

Grissom put on his gloves, more out of habit than anything else, as he couldn't figure out where Greg was going with this. "A test?"

"Yeah, a test. This is you trying to see how good my observational skills are, right?"

Grissom opened the envelope. And yes, it was possible to surprise him. There was a photograph of a man dressed as Santa Claus. Approximately early-30s, though his face was almost completely obscured by the beard, hat, and glasses. Grissom's age determination was based solely on the man's physique, which was pretty easy to see as all he was wearing was red velvet pants, and suspenders. The caption on the back read 'I know what you like'. "No, Greg. I can assure you I didn't send you this. If for no other reason, I'm much closer to the traditional image of Saint Nicholas under my shirt."

Greg looked dubious, though the question of whether he was doubting Grissom's denial, or his upper body definition was something Grissom was willing to let lay permanently. "Well, then what's going on?" Greg asked.

Grissom examined the photo again. This could be nothing more than a practical joke, but there was always the possibility that someone was stalking Greg. "Where did you find this?"

"It was in the lab. Hodges found it about fifteen minutes ago. When he saw it had my name on it, he passed it on to me."

"So, I'm assuming his prints are on the outside?"

"Yeah. But his prints are on file, just like everyone else's. It--" Greg didn't finish what he was saying; presumably he saw the sudden flicker of understanding on Grissom's face. "What? You figured it out? Just like that?"

Grissom put the photo back into the envelope, and passed it back to Greg. "I have some ideas. But I think you're right. Things have been slow for the last couple of nights. It might be nice for you to have a case that doesn't have a corpse involved."

"Yeah, but--" Greg stared at him, incredulous. "You're really going to let me fumble around on this, knowing full well who sent this."

"I'm pretty sure you're not going to be fumbling around. Besides, in this case, I think the journey will be just as useful for you as the destination."

Greg blushed. While Greg's orientation was pretty much an open secret for the night and swing shifts, he wasn't used to talking about it openly. "Because of the 'I know what you like' thing?"

Grissom walked to the door and opened it, a clear sign that he was sharing all he was going to. He smiled. "Good luck with finding out who's been donning the gay apparel."

CSI 

Greg was working on a thorough examination of the photograph when Nick came in. Given that Grissom had clearly seen SOMETHING when he'd looked at it, Greg had blown it up to poster size, and pinned it to the bulletin board above his work station. That made the guy's body much more conveniently sized for ogling, but it hadn't led to much else in the mean time.

The guy was nicely muscled, with a pleasant amount of hair on his chest. Caucasian. Early-30s. Which only narrowed Greg's search parameters to about half a million people in the tri-state area alone.

The background was a dead-end. Plain, white walls, which were even easier to find than white men in their early thirties. The photo was cropped high enough not to reveal what was covering the floor. All he'd been able to determine was that the picture hadn't been photo-shopped, though that didn't really tell him anything.

"Wow, kinky." Nick's voice came from behind him. Greg turned to find his sexy co-worker eyeing the poster with a teasing grin. "I had Bon Jovi on my bedroom wall when I was a kid. But this is nice, too."

Greg blushed. It was hard enough keeping his crush on Nick under control without Nick making suggestive innuendo. "Thanks for your approval."

"Aw, don't be mad," Nick cajoled, putting a hand on the back of Greg's neck. He handed over the envelope with the original photograph, and Greg was happy to see Nick took this seriously enough to be still wearing his gloves. "I've got your trace."

"Thanks," Greg replied, with a desperate gratitude he regretted as soon as it left his mouth. "I could use something to actually go on. Any fingerprints?"

"Nope. Whoever this is, they know their stuff."

"Or at least, they've seen a minimum of one detective show." Nick pouted a little at Greg's difference of opinion, and Greg quickly moved on (and no, it wasn't just because Greg hated to see that look on Nick's face - Really). "So what have you got?"

"White, plastic hair, naturally. Saliva sample from the envelope, which admittedly gives us nothing without a suspect. Ditto for the handwriting on the outside. And," Nick grinned as he revealed what he considered the critical piece of information, "a brown hair. Your mystery guy's a brunet."

Greg's face fell. "Yeah, I noticed that," he stated dejectedly, with a vague hand gesture to the photo.

Nick winced. "Right. I wasn't thinking about the chest hair. Sorry."

"Nah. You're probably right about this guy knowing what he's doing," Greg admitted.

"You haven't found anything from the photo analysis?"

Greg smiled a sad parody of a bemused smile. "I've ruled out dwarves and giants."

Nick laughed at that. "What?"

"The Santa Claus beard and hat are your standard store-issue," Greg explained. "I can't really give an exact height without there being some kind of size comparison in the picture. But he'd have to be between five and seven feet tall for the disguise to fit properly."

"Nice."

"It tells me nothing," Greg complained.

"Yeah," Nick admitted. "But the reasoning's good. Gris'll like that. You said, he's practically marking you on this investigation."

Greg smiled a little at that. "Right. Well, that's something, at least."

"I've gotta go. You still coming to this 'all CSI' Christmas party thing?"

And that sound was Greg's face falling again. "I guess so. With Grissom, Catherine, and a couple of the day shift lab rats giving up the party to cover this place, it'd be kinda ungrateful to skip it. It's just so stupid. We miss out on our group celebrating together, and for what?"

"We get to rub shoulders with the day shift," Nick replied with playful sarcasm.

"Oh, yeah. Joy."

"Ecstasy."

CSI 

Sara held her blouse up to Warrick's nose. "Does this smell like dog eyeball to you?"

Warrick pulled away from her, disgusted; completely because of the comment, he hadn't smelt anything in the millisecond Sara's blouse had been in his face. "God. Warn a guy before you do something like that."

Nick laughed at both of them. Smelling each other's clothes before a party had become a Christmas tradition for them all. "You should consider yourself lucky if you smell like dog eyeball. Last Christmas party I had a blood and semen stain on my knee. Neither one of them was mine, and I didn't notice until I'd already gotten there."

"Oh. So THAT'S what that was," Sara replied. But then she turned her attention back to Warrick. "Come on, Warrick. Yes or no?"

"It smells fine," he insisted.

"You're sure?"

"You think I'm gonna risk not telling you, and then someone at the party telling you that you really do smell like dog eyeball?"

"Point taken." But Sara put the blouse back in her locker, anyway, and pulled out her back-up.

One of the day techs walked in just then. A dark haired guy who's name Warrick couldn't quite remember. "Hey. You guys headed for the party?"

"Yeah," Nick told him. "Thanks a lot for covering for us."

"Don't mention it." The guy tossed a jacket in his locker, and was out of the room before anyone could add anything.

"Talkative bunch, the day shift," Sara joked.

"Yeah. This party's going to be a real winner," Warrick laughed. "Anybody know if Greg's coming?"

"Why wouldn't he?" Sara asked.

"I thought he might be busy with his 'mystery guy'."

Sara laughed, but Nick looked like he felt bad for Greg. "He's coming; he needs the break. I didn't think he'd get so wrapped up in that thing."

Warrick shrugged. He'd decided long ago that he wasn't going to be one of those guys that was prejudiced against other minorities. "Everyone needs a little loving."

"I think it's cute," Sara stated. "I'm probably the only one in the room that thinks so, but I think two guys together is a little hot."

"I don't get the appeal," Warrick admitted. "But I'm guessing it's something like watching two girls together?" Now THAT, Warrick got the appeal of.

But apparently, Sara didn't. "Now, see, I don't get the appeal of THAT. Not that there's anything wrong with it, but I have a hard time wrapping my head around there not being a penis in the equation."

Nick raised a speculative eyebrow at that. "So, you wouldn't?"

"Haven't seen a woman I'd like to get together with, yet. Probably not going to happen." Warrick nodded in agreement, but apparently Sara wasn't done. She looked a Nick, equally speculative. "Why? Would you?"

Nick blushed heavily, which was more an answer than his: "Yeah, probably. Probably definitely."

"Nicky!" Warrick gasped playfully. "I thought we were all buds. You join a new team, and it doesn't warrant a mention until now?"

"I haven't done anything, yet!" Nick insisted. He was laughing, too, but his face suddenly got serious. "I didn't use to think anything about it. But, after-- After what happened last spring... Well, I thought it was pretty stupid to not at least try it out." He finished up pretty blase, but Warrick and Sara could both tell how terrifying his recent soul searching had been.

Sara probably would have pushed Nick to open up about it, but Warrick and Nick WERE buds. So Warrick decided to redirect the conversation with a bemused shrug, and yet another brief consideration of his wife. "Who knew that a near death experience would turn out to be so inspirational?"

CSI 

The all CSI Christmas party had turned out to be Ecklie's most tedious idea ever. Sure, the day shift people might be nice people, but there was no way of knowing that. The day people stayed with the day people, the night people stayed with the night people, and the swing shift people flitted back and forth in an awkward attempt at tying the party in a cohesive whole.

Greg might have been impressed with the swing shift's hopeless, but valiant attempt at bridge-building, if he wasn't still so absorbed with his 'case'. He didn't have anything new since he'd spoken to Nick that afternoon, but that could have just been because he'd been fantasizing and half-wishing that it had been Nick who was the one in the photo.

Grissom was right: Greg really was intrigued by this. It'd been a long time since Greg was involved with anyone, and the idea that there was someone out there willing to go this far to get his attention was both flattering and a little erotic. And given that Grissom seemed to have a good idea what was going on, it was hard not to get his hopes up that this was a worthy suitor, and not some crazy stalker. But there was still that part of him that didn't like the way he was being herded towards this conclusion, not only by the man in the picture, but Grissom himself.

Greg had been mulling around the edge of the room they were holding the Christmas party in until he came to a stop in a deserted little alcove. He continued to be lost in his thoughts until Nick came up to him with a naughty grin on his face. "Hey, Greggo."

"Yeah?" Greg replied, puzzled.

"I just thought I'd come rescue you. I don't think you noticed the parasite you just wandered under."

Greg yelped, inadvertently (seriously, Greg didn't realize that he'd done it) jumped against Nick's chest. Greg whirled around and looked up, seeing...

Mistletoe. He sighed, embarrassed. "Thanks, Nick. That was a close call."

"Maybe I shouldn't have done it," Nick teased. "For all I know, you had this clever plan to lure your admirer to the mistletoe and expose himself."

It was a good idea, but Greg hadn't had it. "You think it might be someone here?"

"Maybe," Nick told him. They moved away from the mistletoe, towards one of the patios that connected to the party room. Nick continued to ponder Greg's predicament. "In spite of the fact that you think any old couch potato could fool me, someone who was CSI would have a lot easier time pulling a fast one on me."

"Aw, Nick," Greg winced. "You know I never--" Greg felt a lot more upset about this than Nick seemed to, though.

Nick grinned at him, and put an arm around him. They were alone, so Greg was able to let go a little. "Yeah, I know," Nick assured him. "Lighten up. This is supposed to be fun."

"It is, it's just," Greg shook his head, frustrated. "This is a weird way of going about this. What am I supposed to do when I finally figure this out? Am I going to date this guy?"

"I guess that depends on who he turns out to be." Nick was standing awfully close, with a strange, shuttered look to his eyes. Something Nick never had, unless it was a flashback to the previous spring. Which wouldn't be the case here.

He couldn't be jealous, could he? "But if it is one of us, it probably isn't even someone I know. I don't want to hook up with anyone in there. And I'm pretty sure it isn't anyone on nights, which is fine with me, except--" Greg broke off, wondering if he'd said too much.

"Except?"

Greg didn't know why he kissed Nick just then. He wasn't drunk; he didn't really drink. And he was well within his own control, even allowing for his distraction over the photo. But he didn't want to be victim to some kind of photographic blind date. He wanted to act, not react. And acting on his attraction to Nick felt good. Until he worried that he might be wrong doing it.

It wasn't until he tried to pull back, that he realized that he couldn't. Nick had his hand on the back of Greg's head, holding the kiss together since he'd apparently guessed that Greg's first reaction to the kiss would be to apologize. Nick tilted Greg's head back a little, opening the blond's mouth and intensifying the kiss. Nick tasted like cinnamon and sugar, and Greg hoped the salsa he'd eaten earlier would be a good mix.

Nick had his other hand on Greg's back, and the inside of Nick's embrace felt perfectly right. Greg wrapped his arms around Nick's torso, and his right hand got the pleasant surprise of finding the edge of Nick's shirt. That hand slid up Nick's bare, muscled back, and there was nothing left in the Greg's universe but this wonderful man around him.

Greg pulled himself close, feeling Nick's arousal as surely as he could his own. Nick's hands slid down a bit, the lower one reaching Greg's backside, but he was so gentle. This was no quick grope, but an exploration that would take a lifetime to conclude if necessary.

Nick's kiss was a delight, and one that drove Greg with a passion he'd never dreamed a single person could withstand. Their tongues made love in his mouth. Hot, hard ecstasy. Greg couldn't breathe, and he didn't want to.

It must have been Nick's understandably greater fear of suffocation that brought the kiss to it's conclusion, because Nick pulled back with regret that this absolutely perfect moment had to end. They were both softly panting for breath, and Nick gently rested his head on Greg's forehead. "Wow," Nick breathed.

"God, yeah," Greg whispered. "I don't care about some guy. In some picture. This is what I want. Wanted it for a long time now." He couldn't resist stealing a few more light kisses, and nipped gently on Nick's lower lip.

Nick looked in Greg's eyes, and it was if they were so open at that moment, that nothing could be denied the other. "Me too. Greg, I--"

They jumped apart, more on reflex (and CSI training; their jobs were almost as dangerous as a police officer's) than any fear of being caught, when they heard Warrick whooping loudly from inside. "Hey! Anyone seen Greg? Greg Sanders?"

Greg hurried back into the room, curious. Nick followed close behind, a shadow that Greg sensed more than he saw. Though no shadow could make Greg as content as he was. "What's up?" Greg asked.

Warrick turned to him with an annoyingly lewd grin. "Someone's got a present." He had his gloves on, and there was another manila envelope in his hands.

"Ooh," Sara cooed. Despite the fact that Nick was the only one helping out, that hadn't stopped any of the others from putting in a quip or two.

Oh. So this is what it feels like when someone who's interested in you catches you with someone else. And with an audience.

"I didn't bring any--" Greg cut off when seven people offered him a pair of gloves. With Warrick's, and any that hadn't been offered, Greg briefly wondered what kind of party people were expecting to have.

It was virtually the same picture, with one notable difference. The man in the picture had no suspenders or pants, just a red bikini. The man wasn't aroused, but the bikini was packed with the promise of amazing times ahead.

But after the kiss he'd just shared with Nick, none of that seemed to matter. "I-- I don't know." He turned to Nick, who seemed just as uncomfortable as Greg did.

"Well, Grissom still wants to see what you can do with this," Nick finally stated. "You might as well finish the investigation. Even if you aren't going to do anything about it."

Nick smiled a little, and Greg grinned in response. "No. I'm not."

/ CSI \ \ \

Three days later, Greg's investigation was no further along than it had been before the second picture had arrived. Nick had been right, whoever was doing this knew what they were doing. All that he'd been able to determine from the second picture was that it was likely done on top of a tripod, as the picture cut off the view of the man's legs at exactly the same spot. Which was, again, one of those completely useless bits of information.

He didn't want to do this any more, almost as badly as he wanted it done. Greg was a little frightened that his new relationship with Nick could be damaged by this x factor hanging over them. But at the same time, kisses and dating Nick (and at some soon-ish date, sex) were sapping his desire to spend extra time in the lab staring at Christmas-themed pre-porn.

So it was the end of his shift, and the end of the exactly half-hour he'd allotted himself to work on this. He was in the locker room now, and the only other person still there was Catherine. "Hey, Greg. How goes the search?"

"Lousy," he admitted. "Besides making me the center of attention at the Christmas party, the second photo's a bust. The whole situation is making me cranky."

"Aw," Cath teased. "This investigation cutting into your time with Nick?" It was the first time anyone had implied that they knew what was going on. And Greg was more than a little startled.

Not that Greg and Nick were hiding anything, but it'd been THREE DAYS, including a week-end. It seemed like everyone was figuring these things out faster than he was. "Did you notice, or did someone tell you we kissed at the Christmas party?"

Cath smiled, pleased. "No, I didn't hear about that. You've just been touching each other a lot today. Well, touching each other, and noticing it. Congratulations."

"Thanks. But I still have this stupid 'case' thing. And it IS cutting into me and Nick. If this turns into some kind of fatal attraction thing, and Nick gets buried alive again over this, I'm completely gonna lose it."

Catherine put a sympathetic arm around an anxious Greg's shoulders, though she had to stretch to do so. Greg had clearly taken Nick's kidnapping harder than any of them, Cath had been able to tell by how over-restrained and faux-normal Greg had been. In fact, that had been one of her first hints that Greg might have been falling for Nick. "Don't worry about it. Grissom thinks this is on the up and up. And if Gris is convinced, so am I."

Greg calmed, and stepped back from Catherine. "Yeah. You're both right. I just wish I'd seen what he'd seen."

"I'm a little curious, myself," Cath admitted. "I think I'm the only one here that hasn't seen either of the pictures."

"Really?" Greg was surprised, but then again it had just been a week-end. "Well, I guess there's no reason why you can't share in the 'don't tell Greg what's going on'." He pulled out the blow-ups he'd made of the two pictures and offered them to her.

As soon as Catherine saw the pictures, Greg knew she had seen whatever Grissom had. She arched an eyebrow when she came to the second photo. "Wow."

Greg sighed. "This isn't anything, is it? This is just some oddly timed April fools joke." Though if it took him another four months to figure this out, it wasn't really oddly timed, was it?

Catherine forced down a smile. "No. Trust me, we're not all laughing at your expense."

"Anything you want to share, then?"

Cath genuinely considered this. "Run the trace on the first picture again. I think I have a good idea why it slipped past Nick the first time." And then she was out the door, before Greg could question her further.

Greg knew he'd decided to go home. But if there was a chance of ending this and moving on with Nick, he wasn't about to wait until tomorrow. He grabbed a fingerprint kit and pulled the evidence bag containing the first envelope out of his locker. In a few moments he was running back to the lab with three sets of fingerprints.

The lab was pretty quiet; day shift enjoying the same lull in cases that the others were. He ran up to the only tech inside (one of the ones that worked an extra shift to let Greg go to the party, and damn if he didn't owe them all for Nick). "Hi. I know I'm off, but would you mind if I used the computer to access the fingerprint database?"

The dark-haired guy smiled at him. Greg had seen him before, but couldn't remember his name. "Sure thing. I don't have anything for it this morning."

"Thanks a lot." Greg hurried to the computer and tried to ignore the tech that had decided to stand behind him, just out of discomfort's distance. Apparently, news of the pictures had traveled through the day crew as well. "God, I can't wait until this is over, and I can get on with things with Nick."

Greg thought he'd been talking to himself, but the tech apparently heard him. "Nick?"

"He's a guy on Night shift I'm seeing," Greg stated as he scanned in the fingerprints he'd collected. "Cute Texan, used to have this bizarre 70s porn mustache." And as much as he was crazy about Nick, it was great that that thing was finally gone.

"Ah. I don't know many of your guys' names," the tech admitted, sounding pensive.

"Don't worry about it." There. The fingerprints came up fast, the computer checked CSI fingerprints first, in case of accidental contamination. One of the prints, naturally, was Hodges. A second was Greg's; apparently he hadn't been as cautious as he thought he'd been when he'd taken the envelope from Hodges in the first place. The third...

The hell?

"I've- I've gotta go," Greg stammered. The tech nodded and went back to his work, while Greg ran back to the evidence in his locker.

The last set of prints were Nick's. But he'd been so careful. Wearing gloves as a sign of respect for Greg. This wasn't possible, unless...

Greg pulled the first photo blow-up out of his locker. And he finally saw it. What Catherine had seen. What Grissom had undoubtedly seen, even in the smaller picture.

Greg hadn't thought he'd seen Nick shirtless before. But he had, only the one time he had, he'd been too shaken up to even remember it. Nick's torso, with subtle marks all over it from the millions of ant bites he'd gotten this spring in that damned coffin.

The marks would have faded (in a couple of months, they'd likely be gone), and only a CSI would have a hope of noticing then now, even in the blown-up picture. But they were there, and Greg could see them now that he knew what he was looking at. Grissom must have recognized the pattern immediately.

It was Nick.

/ CSI \ \ \

Greg was at Nick's apartment door as fast as he could get there (it was convenient to be able to show his ID at the door, and not have to be buzzed in), and banging on the door with a bemused grin on his face. "Nick! Stokes, open the door! You've got some 'splaining to do."

He'd gotten over his initial feeling of betrayal on the trip over here. Nick had, after all, agreed that Greg should finish this to prove to Grissom that he could. He'd done that. Now Greg wanted it over.

Nick answered the door, puzzled. Also, wet and naked. He'd apparently responded to the banging on the door straight from the shower. All he had on was a towel that, in retrospect, wasn't nearly big enough. "Greg? What's wrong?"

Greg's hands were all over Nick's upper body. Partly just for the sheer enjoyment of Nick's body, but also for confirmation. The marks WERE almost gone, but Greg could still see them. And they were beautiful to him. Everything about Nick was beautiful. Greg ran his hands through the short hairs on Nick's chest, enjoying the bit of moisture they were leaving on his fingers. "It was you. It was you all along."

Nick gasped as Greg ran his hands along Nick's hard nipples. "Yeah, I-- I figured Gris would be disappointed if I told you before you figured it out. Of course, if Warrick hadn't found the second envelope when he did, I probably would have told you everything before I remembered that."

Greg's confirmation was finished, but he couldn't keep his hands off of Nick's chest. "I know. I'm just glad we don't have some other guy hanging over us. I couldn't really enjoy those pictures not knowing it was you." He gave Nick a naughty smirk, but Nick was trying his best not to see it.

"Uh-huh. Uh, Greg," Nick moaned. "Could we go inside? As much as I'm enjoying your cross-examination, I'm pretty much naked out here, and I-- Well, I'm--" Nick looked down and Greg's eyes followed.

Nick's towel was tented out pretty promisingly. "Oh." And as tempting as it was to take hold of that center pole, there were public decency laws to consider. "If we go inside, can we take the next picture in the series?" Greg teased.

"I think we can manage that," Nick told him. "But later. Much later."

/ end \ \ \


End file.
